


Lonely Voldy

by OldFashionedMoth



Category: A Very Potter Musical Series - Team StarKid, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Campfires, Death Eaters, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Humor, Nifflers (Harry Potter), sardines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:35:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29699256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OldFashionedMoth/pseuds/OldFashionedMoth
Summary: Voldemort is feeling a little lonely since Quirrell's untimely demise, and has decided to get to know his closest allies a little better.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Lonely Voldy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jenniboo311](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenniboo311/gifts).



> Please note: Voldemort's character was heavily influenced by his portrayal in Starkid's 'A Very Potter Musical'. 
> 
> Thanks once again to my wonderful friend Jenniboo311. Your help and encouragement has been immeasurable!

Lightening streaked across the blackened sky, illuminating the twisted shapes of trees in the foreground. Rain bitterly thrashed against Lucius Malfoy’s face as he hurriedly strode down the garden path. The sharp pain in his forearm pulsated even more intensely, stirring a greater sense of nervous urgency in his belly. Truth be told, he had been feeling more and more conflicted about his allegiance to The Dark Lord as of late. Narcissa had been so worried about their son, Draco, showing interest in joining the rebellion, and Lucius’ own participation in the Dark Lord’s plans had become a source of conflict in their marriage. Lucius longed for the simpler times, before His Dark Lord’s return. He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to steel his thoughts.

“Don’t give him any reason to suspect your reluctance,” he said to himself. 

The Dark Lord was very accomplished at occlumency, and any sign of disloyalty would have been disastrous for himself and his family. He could almost taste the passion and vigor with which his master had cast the summoning spell, that made his dark mark glow. He felt that this night was different somehow. So much was riding on this evening going well. His master needed his assistance, and he was going to answer the call. 

He cursed under his breath as he approached the obscured house. A series of charms and hexes had prevented him from apparating any closer, and the 5-minute walk in the tempestuous storm had soaked him to the bone. He paused in the doorway, wiped his limp, soggy hair out of his face, and knocked 3 times. 

The door opened a crack and two beady eyes peered out, warily. Lucius’ lips receded in contempt.

“Step aside, Wormtail, before you lose your other hand,” he sneered, forcing the door open wider.

Peter Pettigrew retreated into the darkness of the foyer, allowing Lucius room to step inside. As his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, he could see that he hadn’t been the only one summoned by His Dark Lord. 

To his left stood Hogwarts professor, Severus Snape. That was to be expected. Snape had recently regained The Dark Lord’s confidence, and had become one of his most trusted advisors. He and Lucious had once been good friends, but they seemed to have drifted apart over the years. He thought, perhaps, he would try to re-engage with Snape. Having an ally close to the top could prove to be advantageous to his own position, and in turn put Narcissa’s mind at ease. 

More surprisingly, Lucius noted that Barty Crouch Jr. was also in attendance. Poor chap. He had become a shell of his former self, ever since that blasted Cornelius Fudge decided to bring a Dementor into the courtroom during his trial. Barty stood now, facing the corner, eyes unfocused and unaware of his surroundings. Such a pitiful waste of talent. He had been a very promising young wizard, and an asset to His Dark Lord, to be sure. It was so sad to see what became of him since receiving the Dementors kiss. 

The door behind Lucius sharply flung open, and a hulking figure stepped inside. In a swift movement it grabbed Peter by the back of the neck, lifted him to meet his own shadowed face, and grumbled, “I knew I smelled a rat!” 

Severus sniffed and muttered under his breath, “And. I. Smell. Wet. Dog.”

Fenrir Greyback snarled, dropped the sniveling Peter to the floor, and turned to loom over Severus, menacingly. Severus stood his ground, unflinching.

A long serpentine hiss emanated from the shadows, breaking up the scuffle. Nagini, The Dark Lord’s faithful boa constrictor, weaved herself around the men’s feet, heralding her master’s entrance. 

The parlour doors pitched open with gusto as his eminence rushed forward, robes billowing behind him. 

“Gentlemen, you’re LATE! I expect you have a good reason for keeping me waiting?”

Lucius could feel the butterflies in his stomach grow. He hated to disappoint his master. The repercussions could be disastrous. He could sense the others shift uncomfortably beside him, indicating that they felt similarly. No one wanted to be singled out, and on the receiving end of His Dark Lord’s wrath. 

“Come! We have much to discuss.” Voldemort said, ominously, before he abruptly turned and disappeared into the parlour. 

Lucius gulped and hesitantly followed the group. They entered the parlour to see six sleeping bags laid out in a semicircle around the hearth of the fireplace. 

“M’Lord. What. Is this?” Drawled Severus

“How long have I known you Snape? Years? Decades even? But do we even really *know* each other at all? What’s my favourite colour, Snape?” Voldemort queried. 

“M'lord?” Snape replied.

“My favourite colour. What is it?”

“Green, perhaps?”

“WRONG! It’s crimson! The same colour of the blood of the innocent, whom I shall slaughter, in the quest for ultimate power! See, you’d know that, if we hung out more.” said Voldemort “I decided we needed a bit of bonding time. The six of us. A bunch of dudes, getting to know one other, just, chillin’.”

“And. The sleeping bags?”

“Well, I thought it would be fun if we pretended we were camping. We can roast marshmallows and tell spooky stories.”

Severus, Lucius, Peter, and Fenrir all began to snicker at their Lord’s perceived sarcasm. Barty remained emotionless, swaying in the doorway.

“IMPERIO!!!!” Voldemort exclaimed, waving his wand over his guests. Involuntarily, the men found themselves choosing a sleeping bag and sitting around the fireplace. Even Barty, lumbered into place.

“Sorry about that,” Voldemort said, releasing them from the curse. “I didn’t want to bust out an unforgivable curse, this early in the evening, but my patience runs thin for your reluctance to follow orders! Somebody make me a s’more!”

Peter scrambled to put a marshmallow on a skewer for his master. The others sat in awkward silence.

“Ahh, this is nice, isn’t it?” pondered Voldemort. “It’s been a while since I enjoyed a campfire. We used to have a bonfire quite often, you know. Quirrell and I.”

Voldemort bit his bottom lip, and swallowed the lump in his throat. 

“Ahh, Quirrell. He used to tell the scariest stories! Kept me up at night. Would you like to hear one?”

Barty stared listlessly into the fire. The others exchanged puzzled looks.

“Ok, once upon a time there was a boy named Tim, who lived in an orphanage. One night, he heard a strange noise on the staircase outside his room. Pat-pat, pat-pat, pat-pat. It seemed to be getting closer. Pat-pat, pat-pat, pat-pat. He soon heard the noise right outside his room. Pat-pat, pat-pat, pat-pat. Terrified, Tim hid under his bed. Eventually he could hear his bedroom door open. Pat-pat, pat-pat, pat-pat. The creature waddled towards Tim’s bed. He could see its little toes, coming closer and closer. Pat-pat, pat-pat, pat-pat. Suddenly it bent down and looked under the bed, at Tim. It was a…BABY!!!”

Voldemort jumped at Lucius, imitating a child’s giggles.

Unimpressed, Lucius asked, “Is that it?” as he recoiled away from His Dark Lord’s tickles.

“Yeah. Quirrell used to tell it better than I do.” replied Voldemort wistfully.

“Where’s the scary part?” asked Peter.

“It was a BABY! Babies are terrifying.”

“No. They’re. Not.” retorted Snape.

Barty continued to watch the flames in the fireplace.

“Ok well, what if it was a murderous baby, coming to kill you? Pretty scary then, right?” questioned Voldemort.

“No, babies are pretty easy to overpower.” Said Fenrir.

“That’s what you think!!!” screamed Voldemort. “Forget it! I had enough of the spooky stories. It’s not the same without Quirrell, anyway.”

After a moment of uneasy silence, Voldemort exclaimed, “I know! Let’s make prank Floo calls. I’ll go first!!”

He put on a Deatheater mask to disguise himself, threw a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace, and stuck his head inside. In the flames, the image of Bellatrix Lestrange could be seen.

“M’lord, is that you?”

“Is your muggle food storage device running?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Is your muggle food storage device running?”

“M’lord I know it’s you. I can see Nagini in the background.”

“You better catch it!”

“M’lord, we’ve been through this. You’ve gotta stop calling me like thi…”

Voldemort cut off the connection before she could continue, as he hysterically cackled at his own joke.

“Ok Fenrir, it’s your turn.” He said, tossing him the mask.

“Fenrir smirked and donned the mask. He threw the Floo powder into the fireplace. This time Lucius’ wife, Narcissa, came into view.

“Hello?”

“I want to speak to Amanda Shagg.” He said gruffly.

“I’m sorry, you must have reached the wrong home. There’s no one here by that name.”

“Are you sure? I think you’d know Amanda Shagg, when you see ‘em.”

“No, I don’t know Amanda Shagg.”

“Well look no further, Darling. I’ll be right over.”

“What the Hell! That’s my wife!” Lucius exclaimed angrily. He grabbed his pillow and smacked Fenrir across the face with it. Fenrir retaliated.

“PILLOWFIGHT!!!!” cried Voldemort gleefully. He quickly charmed all the pillows to fly at Fenrir’s face, all at once.

Fenrir emerged from the pile of pillows and feathers, holding his mouth. “My tooth. You knocked my bloody tooth out! It was the gold one too!” He frantically searched, on his hands and knees, for the gold tooth.

“C’mon guys. You’re all being a total snoozefest. You know what we need to liven up the party?”

“Copious amounts of. Alcohol?” asked Snape dryly.

“No. Well, yes, maybe? But no. I was thinking a parlour game!” Voldemort shouted. “Quirrell and I used to pass so many hours together playing games. My favourite was when I’d close my eyes, and he’d hide somewhere in the house. Then, when I opened my eyes, I had to guess where we were. Haha. Good times, good times.” 

“M’lord, it’s really getting late. I should be heading home soon.” Lucius said.

“Oh no, you’re sleeping over all night. That’s what the sleeping bags are for,” snapped Voldemort. “Besides, you wouldn’t want to miss us putting Wormtail’s hand in warm water, so he pees himself, do you?”

Peter looked up incredulously.

Barty flopped back into the pile of pillows and stared at the ceiling. 

“Let’s play Sardines. It’s like reverse hide and seek. I’ll go hide, and you all have to come find me. If you do, you have to hide in the same spot with me, until the last person finds us. Ok, count to 100, then come find me.”

Peter dutifully began counting as soon as his master had left the room. Fenrir smacked the back of his head.  
“Don’t be such a brown-noser, Rat! Let’s get this over with.”

Together, the men set out to find where their master had hidden. Fenrir looked behind curtains; Peter looked behind doors; Severus looked under furniture; Barty wandered aimlessly; Malfoy discovered a dark ebony armoire, trimmed with carved wooden serpents, and decorated with an ornate crystal door handle. Lucius jerked his head towards the cabinet, and gestured to his fellow seekers that they should check in there. 

“You found me!” exclaimed Voldemort, as the gang threw open the door. “That was quick!”

“Good, game over,” said Fenrir, turning to leave.

“Not so fast. You all have to hide in here, with me, until the last person finds us.” said Voldemort.

“We ARE all here” said Snape.

“Nope, Barty hasn’t found us yet. Quick, get in before he sees us.”

The four seekers piled inside the armoire. Peter’s head was in Fenrir’s armpit; Fenrir’s elbow was in Lucius’ ear; Lucius’ knee was in Severus’ rear; and Severus and Voldemort stood cheek-to-cheek.

“Something. Smells. Like garlic,” remarked Snape.

“Yeah, some of Quirrell’s old turbans are hung over there.”

“You haven’t gotten rid of them yet?” Lucius questioned.

“No, Malfoy! I just…haven’t got around to it, yet.” Voldemort replied. 

“W-we aren’t going to stay crammed in here like this, until Barty finds us, are we?” Peter whimpered

“That’s the name of the game, Wormtail. We’re crammed in here like…SAR-DINES!” Voldemort said, chuckling.

"Does Barty even know he’s meant to be looking for us?” asked Lucius.

“This is. Madness.” complained Severus, “There’s just. Not. Enough room. For five of us in. Here.”  
Severus quickly cast an Undetectable Extension Charm, making the inside of the armoire grow in size, while leaving the size of the exterior unchanged. Each wizard retreated to an opposite corner, as far apart as possible, with Voldemort left standing in the middle.

“Hey man, that’s cheating,” Voldemort warned Severus, “Good job. I like your gumption.” 

“I-I think I hear him coming.” Peter squeaked

The others quieted to listen for the approaching Barty. They could hear him shuffling along the floor, and bumping into walls. Fenrir began whistling and PssPssPssing, to draw him in the direction of the armoire. 

Eventually, Barty poked his head inside the cabinet and commented, “Bigger on the inside,” before stepping inside and closing the door. 

“Ok gang’s all here. Let’s go.” Fenrir gruffed, reaching for the door handle, which was no longer there.

“The braindead fool must have ripped off the door knob!” Bellowed Fenrir, blaming Barty. “Bugger this! I’m not being trapped inside this box with you lot, all night!” He reached for his wand and blasted the doors open.

“Alright then,” said Voldemort, “A bit overkill, but ok. Let’s just go to bed then, shall we? Crankypants!”

He led his guest back to the parlour yelling “Last one back is going to marry Dumbledore!”

Eventually, they settled into their sleeping bags and turned off the lights. All was still, except for the crashing storm outside.

“Hey, Barty. You asleep?”

Voldemort rolled onto his tummy, rested his chin in his hands, and kicked his feet in the air behind him. “Truth or dare?”

Barty stared blankly at the ceiling.

“Alright, TRUTH!" Voldemort continued, unperturbed by Barty’s lack of response, "Who was the last person you kissed?”

Barty’s head lolled to the left.

“Oh jeeze, was that insensitive? I forgot about the whole Dementor thing. Sorry, my bad!” Voldemort said, “Ok Barty, now it’s your turn to ask someone.”

Voldemort placed his hand on Barty’s chin and began moving his mouth up and down. In a high-pitched voice he said, “Snape, truth or dare?”

Severus did not reply.

“Who do you have a crush on?” Voldemort asked, via his Barty-puppet 

Snape remained tight-lipped. Peter began to tease. “I know who he used to have a crush on. I bet he still holds a flame for her too. L-I-L-Y!” 

“Lily? Didn’t I kill her?” Voldemort mused, as he let go of Barty’s head, and grimaced at Snape’s stone-cold face. “Uhh, hey, sorry about that, man. Tough break!” After a pause he continued, “Ok Snape, it’s your turn to ask someone.”

Snape hesitated, but thought better of challenging Voldemort.

“Malfoy. Truth. Or. Dare?”

“I don’t know. Dare?” Lucius offered, exasperated.

“I. Dare you. To. Let. Me. Brew you a potion. Which you. Must. Drink,” Snape suggested.

“Very well then,” Lucius replied.

Snape got up, entered the kitchen and went to work making Lucius his potion.

“Ok” said Voldemort said to Lucius, “Your turn to ask someone.”

Lucios sighed and said, “Wormtail, Truth or Dare?”

“T-truth,” Peter mumbled. 

“Are you REALLY loyal to our Dark Lord?”

“I, umm, well, y-yes, of c-course,” stammered Peter.

“Wormtail knows better than to cross me. Don’t you Wormtail?” Voldemort warned, raising his wand to touch the tip of Peter’s nose.

“I, would n-never!” Peter cried, as he shielded his face with his hand; the light glinting off his silver fingers. 

“Umm, Snape, how’s that potion coming?” Malfoy called out, hoping to break the tension.

Severus entered, holding an ornate goblet filled with a bubbling concoction.

“This. Will have to. Do,” Severus said “It’s not quite. Finished. But I seem. To have. Misplaced my spoon.” 

He handed Lucius the cup. Before he could take a sip, the group were startled by a loud *thooonk*

“MY HAND!” cried Peter, lifting the empty stump where his silver hand once sat. 

A mischievous little niffler scampered off with the hand, but not before looking back and flashing a hint of gold in its mouth. 

“My tooth! The little bugger’s got my tooth!” roared Fenrir, lumbering after the rodent. 

Fenrir, Peter and Nagini frantically attempted to catch the niffler; crashing into furniture and knocking over knick-knacks.

“Drink up.” Severus said to Lucius, with a wink, and whispered more quietly, “Trust me.”

Curious, amongst the pandemonium that the fleeing niffler had caused, Lucius took a sip of Severus’ potion. Immediately, a long rattling wheeze escaped his lungs. The feeling of drowning overcame him, and he began to gasp for air.

“Oh Darn. I must have. Mixed up the shiitake mushrooms with. The death-cap mushrooms. I seem to have. Accidentally brewed. Death-Cap Draught.” Snape said, to the room.

Lucious’ eyes widened in horror.

“I have a bezoar. At home. We’ll have to. Leave. Unfortunately,” Snape continued, with a slight smirk.

“Oh, if you must!” lamented Voldemort “We’ll have to re-schedule our team building exercises for another time then. I hear paintball is a hoot.”

Peter and Fenrir paused their pursuit of the niffler, to gawk at their master.

Severus, stared at him dumbfounded.

Lucius continued coughing and retching.

A single drop of drool fell from the corner Barty’s mouth.

“No? How about lazer tag? Less messy.” Voldemort looked at them with an excited grin, “Or I know! How about one of those breakout rooms, that’s all the rage with the muggles? We could go in there and alohomora that shit. We’ll have it solved in record time, and the muggles will think we’re geniuses! I mean, I actually am a genius, but you could be too! C’mon man! What d’ya say??” 

“Gotta catch that niffler,” Peter and Fenrir say together, edging for the door.

“Must. Be off. Before Malfoy. Bites it.” Snape quips, grabbing a handful of floo powder.

Lucius clutched at Severus’ robes, while panting for air.

Barty’s head drooped to his chest.

As the others left, Voldemort approached Barty, sitting on the floor.

“Well, I guess it’s just you and me now. Hey pal?” Voldemort said, giving him a nudge.

Barty fell over.

Voldemort propped him back up, into a seated position. He placed a marshmallow on the end of a skewer, poked the skewer in the crook of Barty’s elbow, and positioned the marshmallow towards the fire. He then slowly turned, and slid himself down to the floor, back-to-back with Barty. He leaned his head back, to rest against the back of Barty’s head, and sighed. Almost as a whisper, he began to softly sing.

”I am happy as a squirrel, as long as I’m with Mr. Quirrell…”


End file.
